


Practice (Makes Almost Perfect)

by ShyNomad



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyNomad/pseuds/ShyNomad
Summary: The Flash sweeps her off her feet at Mach 1. But it's Barry (her Barry) who she doesn't see coming.Post 3x03.





	1. The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Flash fic (couldn't help it with these two dorks). Constructive criticism/comments greatly appreciated. It gets better/longer, I promise. Thanks for reading.

On their first date, Barry wears a tie.

While he’s sheepishly trying to downplay the significance of the very large display of flowers now bearing her name (she doesn’t have to see the tips of his ears in the darkness to know they’re turning red), Iris takes a moment to admire the way it accentuates the long lines of his body.

Gone were the days when such formal wear would hang awkwardly on his lanky frame, his shoulders not yet broad enough to pull off the authority of her father’s ties. A memory flits to the surface: the two of them standing in front of the mirror, a wide-eyed Barry hanging onto her father’s every word as he tries to memorize the knot, his long fingers tangling in the silky material before running through his hair in frustration.

It probably didn’t help that she was giggling, and when he snapped back and challenged her to do it, well, let’s just say hers didn’t end up hanging halfway down.

He did of course eventually master the skill, but not before she heard him pacing in his room late at night, light flooding through the crack under the door long after her father had stuck his head in to bid him goodnight.

That was Barry – who, behind all the goofy grins and boyish enthusiasm, was utterly tenacious when it came to the things that mattered to him. To the people who mattered to him.

She sees the bashful grin slide over his face as he tugs her towards their destination and there’s a different thrill to it, to watch the way his mouth moves. 

It’s something she thinks she could get used to.


	2. Anchors Aweigh

Barry had always operated with a strong sense of right and wrong. Even before he was a literal, honest-to-God superhero, Iris would see the fatigue settle on his shoulders after a particularly _familiar_ crime scene, a grimace twisting his lips after each swig of beer.

She would bring his unfocused eyes back to her, back from the thankless task of analyzing the violence that tore apart yet another family. He’d gesture aimlessly into the air between them, his mind whirring faster than his hands could articulate.

“Iris,” he’d sigh in frustration, and her hands would find his, her thumbs brushing over his knuckles.

The injustice perpetrated on these children and their families weighed heavily on him, drove him to reassess every shred of evidence to help the system do its job. As the daughter of a cop, she was well aware of the failings of said system.

But to Barry, failing meant there was another person out there with the same questions that kept him up at night.

So she could hardly blame him for running headlong into danger, with the power to prevent tragedies instead of picking up the pieces after the fact. It didn’t stop her heart from climbing into her throat every time the _whoosh_ echoed in her ear, helplessly hoping that Cisco and Caitlin’s words of wisdom were enough to overcome even his most noble (and usually ill-advised) instincts.

And yet somehow that impulsivity was tempered when he looked at her, his gaze hinting at what ( _who_ ) he wanted, unintentionally teasing her from beneath his impossibly long eyelashes. She had never known Barry to be a tease, not in matters of the heart. The awe she sometimes imagined in his eyes (sometimes when he traced the tiny veins on the inside of her wrist with his fingers) was too heavy to be a passing fancy.

But she couldn’t understand what ( _who_ ) was holding him back, his kisses sweet and tender but achingly restrained. His pulse would betray him, thrumming against her lips when she stretched to find the underside of his jaw (one aspect of their height difference she was quickly learning to exploit). The green of his eyes would darken when her teeth scraped against his skin. “Iris,” he’d sigh with an entirely different kind of frustration, pulling her out of the haze of her desire.

Then one day she found him standing in her bedroom holding a framed photo of her and Eddie, one from when they had gone ice skating, her engagement ring peeking out from under his scarf.

Guilt flooded her. She had forgotten it was even still there, no longer needing to wrap the memory around her so she could sleep at night. The oversight made her feel as if she had betrayed both Eddie and Barry simultaneously.

Her presence startled him and Barry hastily put the photo back on her side table, knocking over another couple trinkets in the process. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous tic she hadn’t seen since he had woken up from his coma with newfound powers.

Before she could blink, he had cleaned up and was smiling brightly at her. “Ready to go? Still plenty of time to make our reservation.”

“Barry…” She moved towards him, needing to anchor him before the runaway train of his thoughts took him out of her reach.

“No, Iris, listen, it’s ok.” He picked up the picture again, holding it between them. “I was just thinking…”

“What?” she asked softly, clasping his hand in hers.

His eyes moved from the picture to her. “You looked…happy.”

She looked up at him, thinking maybe she understood now. “I _was_ happy,” she agreed, and his long arms pulled her to him in a familiar hug that had been a steady source of comfort to her in the past year. “For a long time, I wasn’t sure I could be that way again.”

His gaze was patient and steady, everything she had needed from him while she was adrift. But now she wanted him eager and off balance, wanted him impatient for her touch, wanted to feel his laugh against her skin.

She turned them towards the mirror. He met her eyes in their reflection. “You pulled me through, Barry. _You_ made me smile when I thought I had forgotten how.” His arm slid across her waist and she threaded their fingers together, leaning easily against him. “Do you see how incredibly happy you make me?”

“I see the luckiest guy in the world,” he replied with utter sincerity, and bowed his head to capture her lips in a kiss that left them both breathless.

Looking back on it, she thinks maybe that was when he went ahead and captured her heart too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind words and kudos. This is sort of turning into "how Iris falls for Barry", which may seem self-explanatory but it's fun to fill in something the show rarely gives us insight into. Thanks for reading and hope to continue this soon.


	3. You're My Thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's because she can't fly that she keeps him grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the Billie Holiday song.

Even after everything that’s happened (and everything includes the particle accelerator explosion and the meta-humans and the multiple timelines – multiple universes – and the Speed Force, and a giant half-man, half-shark ripping the roof off her childhood home), Iris can’t help but gasp when she sees Supergirl float into the air and chuckle as if the barrage of firepower coming her way is as much of a nuisance as a tickle.

_Call her Kara,_ she reminds herself. _She’s a reporter just like you. In fact, you’ve been doing it longer._

But she’s pretty sure that’s where the similarities end between them. 

And despite the way Barry’s eyebrows knit together every time she so much as mentions Oliver Queen, the fact that he’s the Green Arrow, well, she’s not going to lie, that does something for her. The suit fits him…well, of course, but it’s the confidence in his demeanor, the purpose in his movements (and yeah, maybe that low growl) that leaves her in awe.

Barry comes to her, after the aliens, after the champagne toasts, after drinks with Oliver Queen. He holds her for a long moment (a thousand moments to him) and she can smell the alcohol on his breath. But she knows his body has long metabolized it, and that when he’s slow to let go it’s because there’s something else weighing on his mind.

“Hey,” she tugs on his chin. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes search hers, and she wonders what kind of answers he’s looking for. 

“I…changed things,” he says finally. “When I went back, I changed things, and I think one of those things might be…us.”

A feeling of uneasiness skitters up her spine. “What do you mean?”

“Our future, it’s-it’s different.” His lips are pressed tightly into a thin straight line, as if he’s afraid to say any more.

“Different,” she repeats, turning the various connotations over in her mind. 

She and Barry, private investigators, solving crimes of the non-meta-human variety. Maybe she’s writing a novel in her spare time. Barry speed-reads through her manuscript one evening while she counts the freckles on his chest, pinches him in retaliation for his cheeky comments about her tall, green-eyed male protagonist. 

She and Barry, travel agents. She has always wanted to see the world. Maybe they learn to slow down, enjoy the journey. In Rome, she takes her time with her gelato, lets it drip off her spoon in the heat before he steals a bite. In Paris, he kisses her, unhurried, while the Eiffel Tower twinkles in front of them, and it's either the kiss or the wine that makes the rest of the world spin around her. 

Iris brings her attention back to the present. “Is that all?” She raises an eyebrow, but the smile playing on her lips only deepens his frown.

“Iris – I don’t know what’s going to happen anymore.”

She laughs, though he looks terrified. “You mean, like the rest of us mere mortals?”

Barry opens his mouth to protest. And then closes it. 

“Barry, Flashpoint or not, I see you in my future.”

His eyes are clear now as he pulls her to him, the thrum of his heartbeat reassuring under her fingers. “You’re kind of amazing,” he says to her, Iris West, ordinary human. And it’s silly but a thrill runs through her at his words and the way he looks at her, and somehow it’s better than watching Supergirl or Oliver Queen or an entire team of superheroes. 

Though Oliver Queen is a close second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally decided to give Supergirl a shot thanks to the crossover, and as cheesy as it is, I’m convinced that Iris needs to find her way over to Earth-38 or whatever because apparently that is the universe where all the kick-ass women characters reside.
> 
> Thanks for all the love.


End file.
